


Are You There Dad? It's Me, Your Only Child

by indigenousghost



Series: It Must Be Nice Being Normal [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alright I'm Back at it, Anger, Angst, Blood and Gore, Companionable Snark, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Dean Winchester Feels, Demons, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Feelings, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Love, Moral Dilemmas, Motorcycles, Nobody talks about their damn feelings, Other, Protective Dean Winchester, Romance, Sadness, Sarcasm, Sequel, Smut, Supernatural Creatures, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-10-02 18:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17268926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigenousghost/pseuds/indigenousghost
Summary: Everyone loves a sequel, right? Wrong bucko. Not me. Things have been going downhill for awhile, and they don't show any sign of stopping any time soon. As they say though, the show must go on and it's not like I have any real choice in the matter. I just hope I can make it out of this with some shred of humanity left. Because right now? It's not looking too hot.PREVIOUSLY TITLED CHAOTIC ENERGY™SEQUEL TO IS IT WRONG TO PICK UP GIRLS IN A GRAVEYARD?





	1. It’s A Fine Line Between Losing Your Mind and Everything Else

**Author's Note:**

> Alright kids, here's the first chapter of the next arc. This is kind of a teaser while I get a little bit of a lead on this story and also get some work done on some original pieces and a different fic I have bouncing around in my head. Have fun with this! Stick with me and I promise it will be rewarding!
> 
> Previously titled Chaotic Energy

**Chapter 1: It’s A Fine Line Between Losing Your Mind and Everything Else**

  
  


**_Bite my tongue, bide my time._ **

  
  


I slip my cell phone back in my pocket after choosing the song on Spotify. A universe is spread out in front of me, an orange hue radiates from it. I can feel the Void energy encroaching—that smell of sour milk, the static electricity feeling on my skin, and the tinge in my heart. 

  
  


This universe is already dead. It didn’t take long for me to find one that was wasting away. It never is. I can feel as the Void energy starts to swallow it up, like necrosis. Part of me wonders if there’s anyone alive here, but part of me doesn’t care. I have to break this place down, raze it to nothing at all. What I’d like to say is “it never gets easier, it’s always hard on my heart”. The truth  doesn’t make me near as likeable. The truth is: it does get easier. It’s gotten easier and easier every time, and now I feel nothing at all. 

  
  


**_Wearing a warning sign, wait til the world is mine._ ** **_Visions I vandalize. Cold in my kingdom size. Fell for these ocean eyes._ **

  
  


I hold my hand out, as my power sparks under my skin, begging for release. The first wave hits the foundations of the universe, shaking them—unbuilding them. I can feel the pressure inside me lighten, but my blood continues to boil with it. I know that’s never gonna stop. I know if Sam or Dean could see my face—the molten silver fire of my eyes, the harsh unyielding planes of my expression, they would hate me. Or maybe they’d be afraid.

  
  


**_You should see me in a crown. I’m gonna run this nothing town. Watch me make ‘em bow. One by , one by, one. One by, one by. You should see me in a crown. Your silence is my favorite sound. Watch me make ‘em bow. One by , one by, one. One by, one by, one._ **

  
  


Maybe they would fear me like the boy from the universe I brought to ruin two weeks ago. The boy who I caught slaughtering his little sister out of jealousy. Or maybe they’d try to fight me like the man I encountered in that same place who raped a woman in the backseat of her own car. They might beg like the girl I watched manipulate and ruin men’s lives for the hell of it. That was the first living world I killed. It wasn’t even hard—and I hated that. When I killed their universe and didn’t think twice about it. You could see the reflection of the destruction in my eyes, but you couldn’t see any remorse.  That feeling is gone. So are they. And I don’t know how to deal with it, any of it.

  
  


**_Count my cards, watch them fall. Blood on a marble wall._ **

  
  


I send out another pulse of power and watch it consume the rest of the universe, destroying it, eating it full. And you know what I feel? Nothing. I feel nothing. I used to be ashamed. I used to feel something, but I can’t feel anything more than anger. Those are my options, anger or emptiness. My gaze is blank as I watch it go. A silver fire burning through the universe, needing no more fuel than the blaze that rages inside me. I can feel it consuming the universe in the space between my ribs, the fire. Despite myself, my hand drifts to my heart.

 

**_I like the way they all scream._ **

  
  


There’s nothing left of it when I’m through. It’s just gone. Like it never existed. My eyes scrape over the blot of empty space. I crack my neck—tilting it to one side, then the other. A breath heaves out of my chest. Dean would hate what I am now. But Dean’s gone, and I am alone. I couldn’t save him and so it is fitting that I can’t be saved. There’s nothing that can be done now.

  
  


The glow from my skin fades away.

  
  


**_Tell me which one is worse, living or dying first._ **

  
  


I seal the Void off using my mother’s powers. Her power tastes of springtime, of love. It lingers with bitterness on my tongue. The last time I felt those… I can’t think about that. Hell, I don’t think I’ll feel anything again. I think I’ve forgotten how. How do you forget something you’ve done your whole life? I wrap my arms around myself, knowing that I haven’t just lost my human skin now, I’ve lost my human heart. 

  
  


**_Sleeping inside a hearse. I don’t dream._ **

  
  


The pendant my father gave me glows blue between my breasts, the chain cold against my sweaty skin. Once it’s done, I stay there, looking at my handiwork. The silence is so encompassing that I can clearly hear the sound of my own breathing, the beating of my useless heart.

  
  


I lied. I can feel something: Hatred. For myself. For Michael. For every single godforsaken Precursor ever to exist.  

 

  
**_You say, ‘come over baby, I think you’re pretty’. ‘I’m okay, I’m not your baby, if you think I’m pretty…’_ **

  
  


Y’know, I don’t know much anymore. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where to go next. What I do know is that I will kill anyone that gets in my way. And I won’t feel a damn thing. I leave the nonexistent universe, the blood of it invisible on my hands.

  
  


**_You should see me in a crown. I’m gonna run this nothing town. Watch me make ‘em bow. One by , one by, one. One by, one by. You should see me in a crown. Your silence is my favorite sound. Watch me make ‘em bow. One by , one by, one. One by, one by, one._ **

  
  


Everyone thinks I'm cold. They think I'm losing my mind. They think I'm vicious, ruthless. They're only partly wrong. 

 

**_I'm not cold._ **

 

**_I'm burning._ **

 

**_I'm on fire._ **

 

**_And I don't care who I have to destroy to keep everyone safe_ ** _. _

 

I will get Dean back.

 

I will stop Ellatris.

 

Even if I have to kill myself to do it.


	2. You Really Should Be Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2 for all y'all patient folk. Hope you guys like it. I went in a little bit of a different direction here. Comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc are all highly appreciated and help motivate me! I love hearing from each and every one of you!
> 
> Lots of love,  
> your friendly neighborhood ghost

**Chapter 2: You Really Should Be Afraid**

 

_ (Sam) _

 

I've never seen her so on edge and erratic. She's gone with the day, coming back with the night. I hardly see her and when I do her eyes are hollow and cold. Any whisper, any mention of somewhere Dean could be and she's gone, like a bat out of hell. And it's scary, downright terrifying. I don’t know what she does when she’s gone. I’m not sure I want to.

 

Sometimes she'll be gone for weeks, and when she comes back burning with that otherworldly presence—smelling like smoke and flames and looking like the ninth circle of hell—she'll fall into Dean's bed and not leave for a week. When she does, she doesn't talk to anyone, except for Jack. 

 

Jack is the only one who can get through to her at all. The only one she reserves a rare smile for. Even those are hard to come by. Jack is always there for her. Sometimes he’ll spend the whole day cooped up in Dean’s room with her, watching movies and listening to music and whatever else they do. Once I walked in on them playing monopoly. She gave me a look that had me turning around and leaving immediately. It seems as though Dean’s room is this sacred space and she decides who gets to come and go. I think Castiel is the only other one who’s been in there, and even then only very briefly. 

 

She breezes into the kitchen, ignoring my mom, me, but she ruffles Jack's hair as she passes. Every time I see her, she looks a little more rough and tired. 

 

Her shirt—that I'm pretty sure is one of Dean's flannels—is rumpled and tucked into a pair of torn up high-waisted jeans. Her silver hair is pulled back, but not neatly. The circles under her eyes are so dark they look like bruising. Her boots, normally polished to a shine, are dull and dirty. Her leather jacket is covered with blood splatters. It’s as if  she doesn’t even try anymore.

 

"Rough night?" I prod, albeit hesitantly.

 

She spares me a glance, but doesn't say anything. Mom gives me a worried look. It's hard to tell, but I think Elvira's lost weight. She makes her way over to the cupboard, pulls out a coffee canister and begins to start a pot.

 

"There's a fresh pot of French Press on the table," Mom says gently. “And there’s an extra bagel on the counter.”

 

Elvira pauses, then methodically puts everything away. Grabbing a cup, she stalks over to the table and pours herself a cup, adding an abundance of cream or sugar. Unexpectedly, she takes a seat at the table with us. Not unexpectedly, she sits beside Jack.

 

"Thanks," she mutters.

 

Mom nods. "How are you holding up?"

 

Her eyes are barely lucid. "Great."

 

"I'm coming today. Right, El?" Jack asks, dropping his spoon into his empty cereal bowl.

 

She nods, but doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t look at any of us. 

 

"Going where?" I ask, doing my best not to sound authoritative. 

 

I don't think that anyone who tried to control her would go over well. At all. She's the only one here who doesn't look to me for deference. Even mom sees me as the de facto leader. But not Elvira, she does what she wants and takes no prisoners. The one hunt I got her to go on with us... Well, she wiped them off the map. Didn't even blink. She rode that bike of hers back to the bunker and went right back to sleep like it never happened.

 

She doesn't respond, just takes a swig of her coffee.

 

"She's taking me to see one of the universes today," Jack responds for her. "She wants someone else to see it."

 

"Are you sure that's safe?" Mom asks cautiously, like she's cornering a wild animal.

 

"Yes." Is all Elvira says.

 

"What if you run into..." I trail off, forgetting the name of the evil thing that's hunting her and her father.

 

"Ellatris," she supplies numbly, "We won't. She's busy."

 

"With what?" 

 

"My father."

 

"As long as he's with Elvira, I think he'll be fine." Mom says. I hear the underlying meaning:  _ don't push her _ . So I don't. 

 

"Jack will be perfectly safe," Elvira says. Sometimes, her voice sounds different... not human. "The place we're going is long dead. And if it's not already, it will be soon."

 

She meets my eyes for the first time in a long time. The way she says it is chilling. She and Dean both have really green eyes. Now though, her pupils are circled by twin rings of silver. I swear I can see them moving and bubbling like molten metal. I don't back down from her stare though.

 

"If you have something to say," she spits, "Then say it, Sam."

 

I lean back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest. Mom looks at Jack before standing up and ushering him out of the room. Elvira leans back in her chair too, regarding me with the same predatory stare a panther would. That’s exactly what she reminds of now. A panther circling the first meal it’s seen in years. It should scare me shitless, but it doesn’t. I know she would never hurt me.

 

"Who are you?" The words burst from me before I can stop them, my voice raising, "Because you're sure as hell not the girl Dean cared about. You're cold. On edge. Violent. It's like I don't even know you. If I didn't know you before..." I trail off, my voice almost a whisper now. I know that if I say those words, there's no going back.

 

"You'd what Sam? Hunt me?” she scoffs. “You couldn't even if you wanted to. Hell, I welcome you to try," she says, sounding more bored than anything. "Please. Rip my cold  _ dead  _ heart out of my chest, because I don’t want it anymore.” She hesitates. “I doubt it’d do anything to hurt me though." 

 

In that last sentence there’s a hint of desperation. Like maybe—maybe she actually does want to die. I look her in the eyes, trying to see beyond the rage, beyond the emptiness; but she’s a good actress. She always has been.

 

"Elvira... Please. I'm not gonna kill you, I don't want to." I say.

 

She rolls her eyes. "Sure as hell could have fooled me."

 

I sigh, "Listen... I know this has been hard for you with Dean being gone..." I don't miss the wince at his name. "But practically killing yourself with the way you've been handling it... it’s not you. You can’t keep doing this.” I stare into her eyes, letting every bit of emotion show. “Because when Dean gets back— _ when _ not if—if I have to tell him you’re dead, he’ll never forgive me."

 

The silver rings in her eyes sparks dangerously, but she says nothing. The only sign that there is something wrong is the whites of her knuckles as she grips the edge of the table. She looks down, her grip slackens, and she deflates in her seat. Like all the fight has gone out of her.

 

When she looks back at me, her eyes are so dull, "What am I supposed to do Sam? How do you do it? How do you stay sane? I feel like I'm losing my mind and the only way I can do it is to put up this wall between myself and everyone else. Because I have a job to do, and you're right, it's killing me. Because I’ve—” her voice cracks as she continues, “I’ve done things Sam."

 

I smile internally, relieved I finally broke through her wall, albeit slightly. "Elvira, just because Dean is gone doesn't mean that you're alone. We're all here for you. You can't keep walling yourself off," I say, even though I’m not sure how to realistically help. Because there's no way I could understand the burden on her shoulders.”You might have done things and you might have to keep doing things, but you have to hold onto the things that make you feel… well, human.”

 

"I miss him, Sam." she gasps out, burying her head in her hands.

 

"I miss him too, El." Slowly I slide my hands across the table and grasp hers. Her fingers are clammy. She looks up and her eyes are damp. 

 

I can't believe the turn this has taken. After weeks of sullen anger, after nothing but the angry silence, she finally talks to me. Not just talks, but has a full blown breakdown. She's a mess, and I've seen messes before, hell I've been a mess. But we're all dysfunctioning a little with Dean gone. She wipes her eyes with her sleeves.

 

"Sam, I have to tell you something." her tone is so abruptly serious I freeze.

 

"What is it?"

 

"I..." she takes a deep breath. "I can't kill Michael."

 

I hesitate. "What do you mean?"

 

"I know you think I'm your ace—your trump card where Michael is concerned. But I can't kill him... I can't, because if I do, this whole universe  _ dies _ ."

 

"What?" my voice shakes.

 

She runs a hand through her hair and looks away from me. "One of the reasons I've been avoiding everyone is that with Jack powered down, I'm pretty much your only hope with Michael. But I can't kill him. Just like I can't hold open rifts. It has  _ disastrous  _ consequences."

 

"Why?"

 

She sighs, "I'm half human, but more importantly I'm half Precursor, Sam. And there are rules for us and the way we interact with the multiverse."

 

I try not to let myself be bothered by the fact that she seems to classify herself more of as a Precursor than a human, but it does. I try to keep it off my face, She can’t help what she is, I know that better than anyone. 

 

"I can't kill Michael,” she meets my eyes, “but I can trap him. So it's better than nothing."

 

I nod, knowingly. "Any progress on finding him?"

 

She frowns. "Not really. Whatever Michael's doing, he's hiding it from me somehow. Whenever I get close, he's just gone."

 

"How? I thought you were pretty much a god?" I say.

 

She shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, comparatively, angels are gods in their own right. Michael might have found some spell work, or he might know a thing or two about Precursors."

 

"Great." I say sarcastically.

 

"I'm sorry." 

 

The pendant around her neck glows faintly blue. I don't know what it is or where she got it, but it seems important. Her eyes narrow and her brow twitches. The glow from the pendant fades. I raise my eyebrows at her. 

 

"I have to go," she says, "do you have a problem with me taking Jack?"

 

I shake my head. "Just watch out for him."

 

She nods and then she's gone. I really hope she knows what she's doing. I know she would die before putting Jack in harm’s way. I can’t let it go, though. I follow her to Dean’s room, knocking on the door. I hear some rustling before it opens. She frowns at me standing there. I peer around her, managing to get a good sweep of the room before she shuts it to her shoulder, blocking my view. But I got a good enough look. It’s a mess; Dean’s clothes everywhere. Pictures. Food. DVDs. Weapons.

 

“I want to come too.” I say, before she can start lecturing me about invading her territory.

 

Her mouth presses in a thin line. “You don’t trust me with Jack.”

 

“No, no it’s not that,” I assure. “Please, I just want to see. I want to understand what’s going on. Because right now, I don’t.”

 

She worries her bottom lip and just as I think the answer is a going to be a resounding no, she opens her mouth. “Bring nothing. Wait in here. We’re leaving in fifteen. Touch nothing.”

 

She brushes past me and I turn, watching her leave. “Where are you going?”

 

“Shower.” she replies as she heads down the hall. 

 

Slowly, I edge into the room. Despite the state it’s in, it doesn’t smell too bad. It smells like, well... like Dean. I look around, trying to get a better feel for what exactly is going on in her mind. The bed is made on one half perfectly. Pictures of Dean, some of Dean and I, are littered everywhere. I have no idea where she got so many. One picture in particular grabs my attention. On the nightstand next to the unmade side of the bed, is an old worn picture of Dean. I pick it up to look at it better. This has to be at least eight years old. The Impala is parked in what looks like a field, Dean sitting on the hood holding a beer, looking at the camera, and actually smiling. Seeing this picture, of Dean happy, is enough to make me my head swim.

 

“I thought I told you not to touch anything.” Elvira’s voice behind me makes me turn with a start.

 

“Where did you get this?” I ask.

 

Her silver hair is wet, sticking to her still-damp shoulders. She’s put on clean clothes and I was right, she has lost weight. The tank top she’s wearing should be tight—her jeans too. Now, though, they hang slightly from her frame. Not enough to be noticeable unless you were looking for it.

 

The shower has somehow almost made her look more tired.She begins running a comb through her hair.

 

“I found it.” she states dismissively.

 

She tosses the comb on her side of the bed. I set the picture back down exactly where I picked it up from; this conversation is very obviously over. When I look back, Elvira has her hair pulled up into a knot and dons her leather jacket. She yanks her boots on, double knotting them. She always double knots her boots. The day she doesn’t have it in her to do that is when I’ll stage an intervention.

 

“Go get Jack.”

 

I nod. I leave her in Dean’s room. Jack is in his room, sitting on his bed, looking at an iPod. He’s scrolling through it. I knock on the open door and he looks up and smiles.

 

“Hi Sam!” he says happily. “Look what Elvira gave me!”

 

“That’s really nice,” I say. “We’re gonna head out here soon.”

 

“We?” Jack says, looking confused.

 

“Ah, I’m coming too.”

 

“Oh…” Jack trails off, he looking down at the iPod in his hands. “She’s letting you come?”

 

“Yeah,” I clasp my hands together, rubbing them slightly—nervously. “Is there some reason why she wouldn’t?”

 

He looks up at me, brows slightly furrowed.“No, she just… she’s very afraid that you and Dean will hate her for what she does.” His voice is almost a whisper, like he’s saying something he shouldn’t.

 

“She told you this?” I ask, shocked that she would reveal something so personal. Even before all of this, she was never really the personal-detail-sharing type of person. 

 

“Yes, but we should go. She says she’s got about as much patience as a dog with a steak.”

 

Jack and I head back to Elvira’s room. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes closed and hand over her clavicle. The blue pendant hung around her neck is glowing. In fact, everything about her is glowing. I look at the pendant more closely. A deep blue teardrop hangs on a long silver chain that rests between her breasts. Her eyes snap open. The silver rings around her pupils are glowing too. 

 

“Are you ready?” her voice echoes just slightly.

 

“Yeah, I think we are.” I answer, looking to Jack. He nods.

 

She stands and presses two fingers against each of our foreheads. I suddenly feel weightless and my stomach churns in response. My eyes clench shut instinctually. When the feeling subsides, I open them. 

 

Stretched before us, is outer space—a single planet hovering in the vast expanse. We’re not that far from the earth, relatively speaking. I take a deep breath and it rattles my lungs. How am I breathing? Where are we? I have so many questions.

 

“Elvira…” I breathe, astonished by the sight in front of me. I turn to her, and her face makes me pause.

 

There’s no awe, no happiness. It’s just blank. She glances over at me, everything about her still glowing. Jack is staring down at the earth, his eyes narrowed and focussed.

 

“I’m gonna take us down onto this earth,” her voice is laden with bitterness.. “I want you to see all of it.”

 

She doesn’t even touch us. We simply appear on the earth. The first thing I notice is the stench, like rotting meat left under the sun for weeks. Scanning the area, it makes sense. There are bodies everywhere. It’s, well—it’s enough to break any person down. How many of these worlds has she seen? I tear my eyes away from the gore surrounding me, seeking Elvira. She’s walking down the street, Jack steady beside her. I watch as Jack reaches over and takes her hand. This feels really personal, intimate even. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I follow them though, taking in as much as possible as I catch up.

 

“How many of these have you seen?” I work up the nerve to ask.

 

“Enough.” she answers, silent warning in her eyes. This is touchy territory.

 

“Is everyone here dead?” I ask.

 

“Yes, or they will be,” she says, looking out at the city. “Before you ask, I can’t save them. I tried for my first few, but… I can’t.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“I can’t stop the Void from consuming the universe,” she replies, tiredly. “I’ve tried. And if I don’t seal the Void out, it’ll move into the next universe over and so on and so on. For me to seal the void out, it has be empty.”

 

“But... why?” I press.

 

Her glowing eyes shift to me. “Oh, I don’t know, Sam. Let me just whip out my handy dandy Precursor Power For Dummies manual, ohhh—wait a second...” She holds my gaze, daring me to question her further.

 

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just stuff my hands sheepishly in my pockets. Elvira smirks in silent triumph and raises her hand. I watch as the soft glow on her skin brightens until she’s as radiant as a star. Her hair is lifted and tossed around by a phantom wind. Her eyes are silver flames now, sparking with power. She clenches her fist, and a force emanates from her in response. I can feel it as it rushes past, leaving a tingling sensation on my skin, and a metallic tang in my mouth. I brush my hair out of my eyes. She kneels and touches the Earth. I’m not prepared for what happens next.

 

The earth itself begins to crumble and dissolve. The buildings, the bodies, everything. Eddies of silver power sweep away the universe in entire chunks until there’s nothing left. I would say the space is empty, but it’s more than that. It’s...nothing. 

 

She raises her hand again. Another burst of power leaves her as she clenches her hand into a fist. A bright silver light arcs from her body, stabbing through the universe—or lack thereof. Then another, and another. When it stops, the glow to her skin gutters, then returns to normal. Well, normal for her anyways. The fire in her eyes though, it stays.

 

“That was…” I start.

 

“Awful?” she supplies. 

 

“Elvira,” Jack says. “You’re not bad. You’re doing what you have to to save everyone.”

 

I look at her, really look at her. You can see how spent she is in the stoop of her shoulders and the circles under her eyes. She tries to hide it with the anger, the silence. She and Dean really are perfect for each other. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to deal with the same sort of thing with Dean.

 

“Elvira... “ I place a wary hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t move. “Jack’s right. This place was already dead. You are  _ not  _ evil, and you have to stop torturing yourself over this. You’re doing everything you can. Jack, me, Mom, Cas… we’re all here for you. We’re a family. We’re stronger together. Yes, what you have to do is hard, and might very well be horrible, but do you have to do it?”

 

Her eyes flicker to mine. “Yes… If I don’t, I can’t tell you how many people will die.”

 

“Then we’re here to help you every step of the way.” I say.

 

A tear begins to form in her eyes, but she takes a deep breath and blinks it away. “Thank you.” She takes another deep breath, “Are you guys ready to go home?”

 

Jack and I nod. She touches each of our foreheads again.There’s the terrible sensation of floating, then nausea, before I feel my feet on solid ground. I crack one of my eyelids open to see Dean’s room. Breathing out a sigh of relief, I look over to find her sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed. Jack is sitting beside her, his hand resting on her back. 

 

“Elvira? You okay?” I ask, sitting on the other side of her.

 

She nods, and looks up at me. If possible, she looks more exhausted than before. “I just need to get some rest. I haven’t slept in a few days.”

 

Jack and I exchange glances before we both stand. I usher him out of the room, throwing one last look over my shoulder. With her ethereal silver hair and her face buried in her hands, she looks like a lost god. A sad and lonely lost god. And I wish I could do anything at all to help.


	3. An Awful Lot Like Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello! To those of you who didn't read Scar Tissue, the reason I've been away is not in fact because I abandoned this story, but because we had no wifi for like a month. The reason for this being, firstly, that our house had some electrical problems and secondly, because we are moving. We'll be totally moved out of our wifiless house by this thursday and I'll be in our totally wifi equipped apartment!!! So there's that. This chapter was kinda to get back into the swing of things. Either way, I hope you guys enjoy it. Leave kudos, and comments to stroke my ego and bookmarks to keep track of the story.
> 
> Over and out,  
> your friendly neighborhood ghost

**Chapter 3: An Awful Lot Like Hope**

 

_ (Elvira) _

 

I’m sitting at the table with Sam, Cas, Jack, and Mary. I pop a fry in my mouth every so often. God, these are delicious. I found this tiny little dive in town, place has the best fucking garlic fries I’ve ever had. Drenched in a creamy buttery garlic sauce, caramelized onions, and sprinkled in finely grated parmesan cheese. Lots and lots of cheese. And the fries are so crispy, even under all that cheese. Sam stares at me, disgust written all over his face.

 

“God, you and Dean with your.... food. If you can call it that.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter, letting the small grin on my face hide the pang of discomfort I feel at the mention of Dean. I push my tray of fries closer to Jack. He takes one and pops it in his mouth. The sweet boy casts a grin my way. 

 

“These… are delicious,” he says slowly, tossing an only slightly guilty look Sam’s way.

 

“Jack, you really shouldn’t eat those,” he groans. “They’ll clog your arteries.”

 

I roll my eyes. “Don’t listen to Sam. Trust me on this one, live a little, eat what tastes good.”

 

Jack glances between us before slowly taking another fry. Haha! Take that Sam! I smirk smugly and pat Jack on the head, earning me a pleased look from the boy. Sam frowns, but I can tell it’s forced by the affection in his eyes. Leaning back in my seat, I eye the group of people with me. It’s been weeks since Dean was… taken. Just thinking his name makes my stomach twist. Especially when I think about my feelings for him. Thank god I made it clear to Sam and Jack to keep their mouths shut about  _ that. _

 

Everything in the bunker still feels off to me. Especially since I kind of dove off the deep end into my Precursor responsibilities. Sam though, Sam reminded me that I need to not bring my work home with me. 

 

Every day is a battle—a long uphill battle that I’m sorely losing. For Jack, for Sam, hell, even for Mary and Cas, I will wear the mask of everything being alright. There’s so much I haven’t told any of them. So much I’m hiding. Like that bitch of Precursor looking for me. She has been hounding after me for awhile. I leave this universe often enough that she’s had trouble pinning me down. That, and my father is helping keep her distracted. I don’t know what I’d do if she came near my family. If I couldn’t save them the same way I couldn’t save... My fist clenches at the thought. Sam’s eyes dart down to my hand. I force a smile, force myself to relax. A mask. This is a lie, a pretty selfless lie. A lie I uphold to protect them. From me. They can never know how dark and broken and twisted I am.

 

“You seem… agitated.” Cas says slowly.

 

Gee, thanks Cas.

 

I shrug, nonchalantly. “I’m a little on edge.”

 

“If you need to talk, we’re all here.” Mary says gently.

 

She’s been unbelievably kind since everything. I keep the smile pasted on and give a slightly stiff nod. The silence is suffocating. I stand up, patting Jack on the back, and push my chair back in. I pad back to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

 

God, it’s a mess in here. I sigh and slip out of the hoodie I’m wearing. Gathering up all the trash and food, I stuff them in one of the garbage bags I dropped on the floor the last time I meant to do this. Clearly, I’m not the most dependable person as of late. Or maybe I’m depressed. I push that thought away. I can’t afford to be depressed.

 

Once all the trash is gathered, I gather all the pictures of Dean I’ve found, except the one I’m keeping for myself, and put them back where I found them: in a box, in his closet, where he probably tries to keep them from seeing the light of day. Too bad baby, I’ve seen ‘em all. Just as I’m pushing the box back into the closet, the pendant on my necklace glows, warming my skin.

 

_ “Daughter…”  _ Calenmai. His solution to just yanking me out of universes: Telepathy. Aren’t we just the Brady bunch?

 

_ “What is it _ ?”

 

_ “Checking in with you.”  _ his voice rings in my head.

 

_ “I’m fine, Callenmai. Just tired, dealing with my family.” _

 

The connection between us falls silent, but the pendant still glows, lighting the valley between my breasts. Absentmindedly, I trace the pendant with the tip of my finger while I wait for his reply. Usually his little check-ins come with some sort of glorified order. He likes to call them “instructions”. They’re more like I’m-calling-them-instructions-but-if-you-don’t-do-it-you-might-be-doomed. So overall, instructions I can’t afford to not follow. I take a shaky breath.

 

_ “Have you found your lover?” _ He finally asks.

 

Okay, gross. I gag a little internally. I hate it when he calls Dean my lover. I mean, I get that that’s technically what we are. Might even be the best term for it. Hearing it in my father’s voice, though... That’s a big no.

 

_ “No, we haven’t found him yet _ .” I eventually reply. And it hurts—an ache in my chest, gaping and raw.

 

He must sense the discomfort down the line because he says, “ _ I’m sorry _ .”

 

_ “We’ll find him _ .” I retort, resolutely. There’s a pause before he continues.

 

_ “I must go. Ellatris is, as the humans say, too close for comfort. Be well, daughter.”  _ The pendant stops glowing before I can respond. 

 

I sit on the edge of the bed.  _ Our _ bed. We still haven’t found Dean. The thought makes me want to curl up under the covers for a few hours and not move, not think, just not be. A light tap on the door pulls my head out of the haze, and has me craning to look over my shoulder.

 

“Come in.” I say, my voice a rasp.

 

The door opens a little and Sam pokes his head through. I give him a semi-smile. He enters cautiously, expecting me to bite his head off. Normally I would, even if I’m trying to be less, well, asshole-ish. Seeing I haven’t snapped at him yet, he gives me an awkward smile and shuts the door behind him. His steps and shoulders are limned with a certain kind of anxiety that I’ve only seen from him a few times before.

 

“Cleaning, huh?” He toes at the garbage bag at his feet. Even his words are coated in wariness.

 

“Yeah.” I answer, but that’s all. I work to keep the bite from my tone. I know he’s trying to make polite conversation before he dives into whatever this is really about. I know he’s not trying to attack me. So why do I feel so defensive?

 

“I just… I know you’re having a hard time,” he starts slowly. “With De—everything.” Good, he avoids saying his name too. Like it’s some sort of trigger and I’ve already got half a finger on it, ready to shoot at any time.

 

“I just,” he continues. “I want to know… the power...what does it feel like? I’ve just… since you took me with you, I want to know—to understand. We want to be there for you as much as possible. And we can’t really do that if we don’t understand.”

 

My eyes widen in surprise. No one has ever asked me that. Not even Dean. Jack has never had to, he understands on some level. With a small sigh, I pat the bed next to me. Who knows how long it could take for me to explain it or how many ways I could, how many ways I will. He strides over and sits, close, but not too close. I take a deep breath, considering the question for the first time.

 

“I can always feel it inside me, like a vast ocean,” I start quietly, “Most of the time, it’s a calm sea, ready to do whatever I need it to do. But other times, like if I feel threatened or hurt, it storms dangerously. Raging and thrashing and crashing against the edges of who I am, threatening to unmake and remake me.” He doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “At times, it feels like a leaden weight, pressing on my spine. It’s heavy. It’s a burden. It’s a responsibility.” I sigh, “When things are bad, after I have to wipe out another universe or I’m thinking about…Dean…I want to sink into it, I want to drown in it and never emerge. It would be easier.”

 

Sam gives a glance out of the corner of his eye, “But you don’t.”

 

“At times, I feel like I do. Sometimes I wonder if the power itself is changing me, or if I’m changing because my human heart doesn’t know how to see the big picture,” I murmur, “Days pass where I don’t feel human at all. All I feel is the power of being a Precursor, at least half of one. It’s easier...to not be human. Because when I’m human, all I feel is pain. And guilt. And sorrow.” 

 

I pause, letting the words wash over Sam. I imagine when he looks at me, pity will be written in those puppy eyes, but as he does, there is none. It’s not pity, it’s sorrow. We’re close enough that I can read him like a book most of the time. And I know him well enough to be confident in my guess that it’s because he can’t help me, he can’t save me from this. No one can.

 

“I feel like the whole multiverse is spinning around me, waiting for me to do something, to save them,” I say softly, breaking the eye contact. “But despite this ocean of power inside me, I’m stuck. I can only do so much. I’m not good enough. I’m not strong enough. I’m too human, I’m too little human. I’m a pendulum, attached to the clock of the universe, swaying and never stopping and never knowing when enough is enough.”

 

I fall silent. That’s all I can say right now. I can always feel it, the power, under my skin, like a second soul. Right now though, I feel it acutely. Every breath and every beat of my heart washes with a wave of it. It’s not struggling to break free, there is no storm. There’s just it, washing at the pain, trying to soothe the sharp edges of my human feelings.

 

“I think...you’re one of the most strong and amazing people I’ve ever known, Elvira,” he says quietly, “It takes strength to stay human in the face of something like this. I know how hard it is. But you’re trying, and there were times when I didn’t.”

 

I know what he’s talking about. Lucifer. Demon blood. A demon girl named Ruby and a thirst to prove himself to the only person that mattered. A story he told me once in front of a TV running in the background helping to drown out the echoes of guilt. Afterwards, I’d put my hand on his arm and it had stayed there until Dean had wedged himself between us and we’d settled in. And there we were—a family. An almost normal family snuggled together watching a movie. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

 

Like my hand held out in comfort then, his words soothe me. “Thank you, Sam,” I say quietly, “and thank you for trying to understand.” 

 

He nods and stands, towering over me, “Dinner is going to be ready soon. Mom made enchiladas. Want me to bring you some?”

 

I smile, “I’ll come out and eat with you guys.”

 

To his credit, he doesn’t look surprised. Then he leaves, the door clicking softly is place behind him. I set about cleaning again, finding a rhythm. Gathering garbage, putting things back where they go, finding new places for things. By the time Jack comes to get me for dinner, I’m just about finished. It looks like a room again and not a trash pit.

 

I leave the room, shutting the door behind me. People have gathered in the kitchen and living room and library, paper plates piled with food. It smells delicious. When I make it into the kitchen, brushing past people who give me odd looks, Mary gives me a small smile. She hands me a plate with some enchiladas.

 

It seems Sam saved me a seat between him and Jack. I squeeze between them and settle down. No one comments on my sudden decision to make an appearance. We just eat. Mary sits opposite me. Every so often, small talk starts up, I make an effort to include myself. 

 

Halfway through my plate, something changes. In my gut, I can feel it, a tingling sensation that starts there and worms its way into my mind. I put down my fork, the sound of it too loud against the porcelain plate. Everyone stops and looks at me. The pendant between my breasts is glowing faintly. A whisper winds around my mind. A single word that has changed from the first time it was uttered and is now changing everything in my eye sight.

 

_ “Princess _ .”

 

I sit bolt upright, electrified. I cling to that whisper, that call. I frantically pull the thread of it to find it frayed halfway through and I almost scream. I stand up abruptly and I’m moving before my mind has the chance to catch up with my body. Nothing else matters suddenly.

 

“Elvira?” Sam calls, confused.

 

I look over my shoulder, wisps of my silver hair falling in front of my eyes and I smile—really smile for the first time in what feels like an age, “It’s Dean, Sam. He’s alive.”

 

The confusion morphs into something solid, something that can’t be contained. No desperation, no joy, but determination. He stands up too and follows me into Dean and I’s bedroom. I yank on a leather jacket and my boots, double knotting them. I pull my hair back into a braid. I grab the bike keys. Sam hovers in the doorway, watching with eyes that follow my every move.

 

“Coming?” the word slips from my mouth before I can think about it. 

 

I don’t want to take the Impala. I can’t be in there. It’s over crowded with memories I can’t have clouding my mind. Not right now. My bike can seat two. We’ll pick him up another helmet in town. He jerks his chin. A yes, then. He disappears. When he returns, he’s wearing boots. I reach into Dean’s closet and pull out one of his own leathers. One that’s a bit big on Dean, but will fit Sam alright. I toss it at him.

 

“You’re gonna need that,” he doesn’t argue.

 

In a matter of seconds, we’re on the bike, Sam’s arms wrapped tightly around me, his face buried into the crook between my neck and shoulder to escape the wind, and blowing down the worn out road away from the bunker. Something bubbles in my chest that I haven’t felt in awhile. It feels an awful lot like hope.


	4. Coincidences Aren’t Just Coincidental … Most of the Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello! Okay so some quick updates on everyone's favorite part of this story ... ahem ... me. New apartment, with - drum roll please - Wi-Fi!!! So that's a big bet. On another note, I'd like everyone to know that my story is probably going to improve dramatically because I have acquired an AMAZING beta. She's very lovely. SO a special thanks goes out to playmysirensong.

**Chapter 4: Coincidences Aren’t Just Coincidental … Most of the Time**

 

(Elvira)

 

I took Sam back home when I lost the trail. There’s no point in being down two of our best people, instead of just one. However, I took the bike back out and am still looking. Part of me wonders if maybe that gentle call wasn’t on accident, that maybe Michael is trying to lure us, me, out in the open. The thought settles uneasily in my gut where I think it might stay for a while yet.

 

The rumble of the bike is a calming force beneath me. There’s nothing but me, miles of dust laden road, and an endless stretch of cornflower blue sky. As is pretty typical with the midwest, fields of corn and grain and various veggies line the road, making for a spectacular display of nothing. Except for the odd silo, barn, or home.

 

I crack my neck. The weight of the helmet is starting to get a little uncomfortable. I should probably stop for gas here soon too. A flickered glance at the gauge tells me that I’m below a quarter tank. This would be the absolute worst place to run out of gas.

 

I never understood what the boys love about the midwest so much. Maybe it’s because I’m a west coast girl, but the absence of trees and mountains drives me a little crazy sometimes. One of our hunts in the Cascades left me begging the boys to stay just a week more. There’s nothing like the mountains in the Pacific Northwest. They’re massive compared to the East Coast babies.Wild. Untamed. It’s the same with the evergreen forests. Lush and green, totally indomitable. Deciduous forests just aren’t the same. Nothing would beat riding through Snoqualmie pass on a warm summer day, with the sun peeking through gaps in the green pine boughs, dappling the road in buttery sunlight. The crisp mountain air filling my lungs as the spicy vibrant tang of the firs fills my nose.

 

I’m so distracted thinking of that ride that I almost race past the gas station. I peel into the lot at the last second, sending eddies of dust into the air from the sharp turn. I pull up to a pump, gearing down as I go. I put it in neutral and and then turn the bike off. Pocketing the key, I yank the helmet off my head and rest it on one of the handle bars.

 

I make my way into the little convenience store. There are rows of snack food and fridges filled with drinks. My boots are heavy against the floor as I slowly peruse the aisles. The beefy cashier with short cropped blonde hair and sun kissed skin eyes me with a look I’ve seen many times. Eventually, I grab a pack of jerky and a bottle of water. As I head to the counter, I give the boy a pretty little smile.

 

“Afternoon,” he says, his voice laden with that midwest twang. Despite my distaste for this part of America, I gotta admit, the accent’s pretty hot.

 

“Afternoon yourself,” I say, letting my own muddled accent out. “I’ll take fifteen on pump three and then the food.”

 

He gives me a slow smile, glancing at me from under long blond eyelashes, as he rings up my items. “That’s gonna be twenty-one twenty, ma’am.”

 

I slide him a crisp twenty and a worn out ten. When he hands me my change, I stuff it one of those jars for missing kids. They need it more than me. I sweep the things off the counter and into my arms before striding out of the building. A shy ‘have a nice day’ follows me out the door.

 

I set the water and jerky on the bike while I get the pump set up. Once the gas is flowing steadily into my tank, I crack open the water bottle and down three quarters of it by the time the pump clicks off. I tap the nozzle against the inside edge of the gas tank to flick off any excess droplets and put the nozzle back in its holder. Afterwards, I finish my water before tearing into the jerky.

 

Midway through the bag, something pulls at the edge of consciousness. A frayed line, one I’ve only ever heard from once. Last night. I nearly drop the bag of jerky in my excitement. Clawing at the little line, pulling it taunt, I send out a searching wave of power. North. The line pulls north. Maybe a smidge more East.

 

 _“Dean…?”_ I prod the line carefully, fully aware that any slip could lose the grip I have on it.

 

 _“Princess_ …” a gruff guttural cry. As far as I know, Dean and I can’t communicate telepathically. So that leaves me two options. Option one, the one I’m far more fond of: Dean is somehow latching on to Michael’s angel mojo and sending out a top secret SOS. The other option, and—as per typical of us—far more likely: Michael is using Dean’s voice to get under my skin and lure us into a trap.

 

I weigh the risks briefly. On one hand, the trap could very likely be designed to kill us. Michael could be waiting there. Or a horde of monsters. On the other hand...Dean. It’s not a very fair assessment, I think. I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone. Pushing Sam’s speed dial, I wait the grand total of one ring, before he answers.

 

“Elvira,” he says, his voice static with poor connection, “got something?”

 

“Yeah,” I reply, “Another psychic connection. Dean is north of us, I’m not sure where exactly, but definitely north. I’ll follow the line. It should get stronger as I get closer. I’ll call you when I’m in a tighter radius.”

 

I hear Sam let out a breath of relief, “Thanks El. Stay safe.”

 

“I will,” I say, “I gotta go. I don’t wanna lose this one.”

 

After quick goodbyes, I hang up the phone. I practically inhale the rest of my jerky. As I’m walking over to the trash can to throw away the garbage, I hear the rumble of another bike as it pulls into the gas station. I look over my shoulder briefly to see a burly man in a half shell climb off the bike. I stride back over to mine, eager to get back on the road. I straddle it and am just about to start it when a familiar voice stops me.

 

“Elvira?”

 

I look over at the man on the bike across the pump from me. Hazel eyes glint warmly from beneath the edge of the helmet and red bandana is tied loosely around his thick neck. A full dark beard is spread thickly over his chin and cheeks.

 

“Parker?” I gasp, my voice heavy with surprise.

 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s you,” he says warmly, “Isn’t this a funny twist of fate?”

 

 _Yeah, fate_. I just think it’s kind of funny how this dude helped me out once, never expecting to see me again, nor I him, and here he fucking is. In the middle of ass nowhere Nebraska. It’s a little too much of a coincidence for my taste. I frown internally.

 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” I say, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

 

“You thought wrong, apparently.”

 

I force a smile, still keeping my guard up. “I’m glad I did.”

 

He jerks his chin at my bike. “See she’s serving you well.”

 

I smile, genuinely this time, “Yeah, she’s getting quite the workout these days.”

 

“What are you doing way out here, anyways?” he asks.

 

I smile coyly, “I could ask you the same thing.” His smile mirrors mine.

 

“Keep your secrets, then. Gonna tell me where you’re headed?”

 

I weigh the risk of telling him. If he’s a monster, demon, or angel, I can take him. As long as he’s not key to this universe. I would sense something like that though. He’s definitely human. Besides, I’m not entirely sure where I’m going. All I’ve got is a direction and some crossed fingers.

 

“North.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere in particular myself,” he says, “Wanna ride together for awhile?”

 

Okay, weird.

 

“Why?”

 

He shrugs.”I can see you’ve still got that look about you. You’re facing something a little too big to handle. Maybe I can help. I was military, you know. Navy.”

 

I almost laugh in his face. You’re gonna compare the military with this? A matter where the world is at stake, one wrong move could send it plummeting into an apocalypse? I hold the laugh back. He doesn’t know any of that. He doesn’t know that there are worse things than people out there. He can’t know. Because, really, he’s just a civilian.

 

“Why not?” I say eventually. I could use the company anyways.

 

“Great,” he replies, “lemme just refuel and then you can lead the way.”

 

I wait as he does what he needs to do. By the time he’s done, I’m itching to get back on the road. When he’s on his bike, I slide my helmet on and start her up. The low rumble eases my anxiety. I pull out of the lot. Once I’m on the road again, I gradually open her up until I’m practically flying. I’m definitely speeding, and not by a little. I don’t care though. Out of my rearview, I can see that Parker isn’t too far behind me. Just enough to be safe.

 

We ride until a little after sunset when I pull into the lot of some cheap motel in some podunk town. Parker pulls up beside me and we switch our bikes off at the same time. He glances up at the building, his mouth twisted in distaste. I raise an eyebrow at him.

 

“Something to say?”

 

“We’re gonna get eaten alive in there.”

 

I shrug. “Won’t be here long enough for that.”

 

He reluctantly follows me inside. The front desk is manned by a cranky middle aged woman who’s about half as wide as she is tall. Her face is set with lines of age and years of anger. I head to the counter, cradling my helmet under one arm. She looks at me from deep set eyes under too thin eyebrows.

 

“One room?” she mutters.

 

I shrug, glancing back at Parker. He shrugs and jams his hands into his pockets. Well, better not to pay for two rooms. I just nod. She tells me the price and I hand her my debit card. I try not to use it except for emergencies. When she’s run my card, she hands me two room keys. One of them, I pass wordlessly to Parker.

 

Our room is on the first floor. The door squeals in protest as I work it open. Flipping on the light, I see it’s just the same as every other seedy dump I’ve ever stayed in. Two twin beds covered in garishly patterned duvets, a small kitchenette, and an ancient TV. I claim the bed closest to the door, dumping my helmet on it. Parker goes straight into the bathroom.

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I untie my boots and yank them off. I remove my jacket and toss it on the floor. Exhaustion creeps over me as I heave myself into the middle of the bed, my head amongst the pillows. I hear the telltale sound of a faucet turning on and then off before Parker emerges.

 

He eyes me sprawled across the mattress. “You look different.”

 

Oof. Yeah. I do. If I could dim that otherworldliness about me, I would, but I can’t. My hair could be passed off as dyed. My skin looks pretty normal most of the time. It’s my eyes though, those I can’t hide. The twin rings of bright silver that circle my pupils are blatantly not human. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny and avoid making eye contact. Though it’s probably too late for that one.

 

I shrug noncommittally. “I guess.”

 

“Don’t lie,” he says, “you know I know that you look...different. I don’t get how, though.”

 

I sigh. “It’s a long story.”

 

He sits on the edge of my bed. “We got time.”

 

I almost tell him then, all of it, everything. From ghosts and vampires and demons to how my father is an almighty god.  How Dean was stolen away from me by an angel that doesn’t fit the standard definition of angelic. I don’t though, but I don’t lie to him either.

 

“I can’t,” I murmur.

 

His hand shifts, resting cautiously on my calf, testing. “Okay. Just know that if you need someone to talk to, someone who isn’t wrapped up in whatever it is, I’m a willing ear.”

 

He doesn’t move from his spot on the bed. I push myself up on my hands and look at him, really look at him. His skin is sun-darkened, and his eyes are framed by similar smile lines to Dean’s. He looks at me and our eyes lock in place. He leans towards me and I know what he wants to do. I scramble back a couple inches. Just enough to get out of range.

 

“I—I’m sorry,” I start, “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression...I just, we can’t...I’m—”

 

“Calm down,” he says softly, like he’s calming a spooked animal. “It’s no big deal. I misread the situation.”

 

“It’s not you,” I say slowly, hating what I’m about to say, because oh god the cliche: “it’s me. It’s, well, it’s...” I trail off. It’s what? I don’t have a name for what’s going on with Dean and I, what’s going on with me in general.

 

My fingers find the worn picture tucked carefully in the breast pocket of my plaid shirt. I draw it out, my hands trembling as I pass it to Parker. His fingers gently grip the very corner as he takes it. His eyes rove over the picture. I know it by heart now. This beautiful picture of Dean on the Impala, happy and alive and well. He doesn’t say anything, so I know he’s politely waiting for me to explain.

 

“His name is Dean,” I say quietly, my breathing becoming tight, “And he’s been gone for over three months. He was...kidnapped.” Not a lie, but not the God’s honest truth. “I’m heading north because I have information on where he might be.”

 

There’s a moment of silence before he asks, “Why haven’t you brought it to the cops?”

 

He gently passes the photo to me. I take it and tuck it safely back in my pocket, letting out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. I’m silent for a minute as I let the question linger. I have to figure out a way to answer this without it being too suspicious. I mean, obviously I can’t just come out and be like ‘oh yes, he was kidnapped by a megalomaniac angel who thinks humans are scum’. That would go over really fucking well.

 

“It’s complicated,” I finally answer, “I can’t...”

 

“He on the run for something?” Parker asks, giving me a side eye.

 

I shake my head—you know, like a liar. The Winchester’s have a rap sheet the size of Texas. I can’t just come out and say that either, though. Most of it wasn’t their fault. Wrong place, wrong time more than anything. And with what they do, it’s real sketch. I mean, honestly, their biggest crime is credit fraud, but like...it’s not murder, which is arguably worse. Although, they have also been charged with murder. Naturally.

 

“He’s not,” I say quietly, “He’s a good man. He and his brother basically took me in when I had nowhere to go and nothing to lose.” The ache in my chest sharpens to something so painful, I absently clutch at my heart. “Turns out I got something to lose now.”

 

“You love him.” Parker says quietly.

 

I don’t say anything which basically screams ‘you, sir, are correct’. I cross my arms over my chest, instinctively defensive, uncomfortable with the sudden way my feelings have been stripped bare. We sit in silence for a while. I’m trying not to focus too much on the fact that he got to the root of the weird thing between Dean and I so quickly. Am I that transparent?

 

“I’ll help you find him.”

 

I jerk my head to look at him, staring in disbelief. “You can’t!”

 

“I’d like to see you try and stop me, honey,” Parker replies, sliding me a cocky grin.

 

“It’s dangerous. More than you can know. I can’t tell you everything.”

 

He shrugs. “Going in half blind sounds like a recipe for a good time.”

 

My jaw hangs open a little. God, Dean would love him. “You’re insane.”

 

“Maybe so, but you need the help, and I’m not comfortable letting you dive headfirst into danger by yourself.”

 

I know he’s not gonna let it go. I know that if I were to take off in the dead of night, he’d find me and follow me. I’d rather have him somewhere I can keep an eye on, rather than stumbling headfirst into the arms of an angel with a few loose screw wearing Dean’s skin. I sigh through my nose, giving in. He knows it too. Bastard.

 

“Fine,” I say, “but I take the lead. I know what’s going on, it’s been my life for the last year. I say jump, you jump.”

 

He grins again. “You say jump, I jump,” he repeats.

 

I roll my eyes and announce that I’m going to sleep. My rest is fitful, filled with endless violet eyes and laughing green eyes, spinning universes and angel wings. I wake with the dawn and rouse Parker. We’re out of the shitty little motel in less than five minutes, flying down the highway. Hours pass, the sun climbs the sky until it’s beating down on us. We pass through many small towns and only stop to get gas. The whole time, I cling to that little thread of consciousness.

 

When it turns from a thin string, to a buzzing in the base of my skull, I know we’re close. Duluth, Minnesota. I pull my bike into the parking lot of a gas station. Parker pulls in behind me. I shut the bike off and pull out my phone, dialling Sam’s number. He answers after one ring.

 

“Elvira,” he says, “how’s it going?”

 

“Duluth, Minnesota,” I reply, “that’s where we’ll find him.”

 

I have to be careful not to mention my powers or angels or anything. I’m fully aware of Parker perched on his bike beside me, listening to every word I say.

 

“We’re on our way,” Sam says. “Start digging into anything angelic or just plain weird.”

 

“Will do.” I say. “Hey, uh, give Jack a hug for me. Tell him we’ll be home soon.”

 

He knows ‘we’ includes Dean.

 

“I will,” he says softly. “Be careful, El.”

 

“You know me, Samuel,” I reply sweetly, “careful is my middle name.”

 

He snorts. I end the call and climb back on the bike. Time to find a hotel and get to work.


	5. The Birds and The Bees … Wait, Wrong Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears, we're moving forward!!! In personal news, I have a job now. I'm hosting at an Italian place. Worry not though, I still have free time and usually, I want to spend my free time writing. I've got a little lead on this story too. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it. Comments, kudos, bookmarks are really appreciated. (I mean, who doesn't want to feel validated?)
> 
> Lots Of Love,  
> Your Friendly Neighborhood Ghost

**Chapter 5: The Birds and The Bees … Wait, Wrong Talk**

 

(Sam)

 

We meet Elvira at the morgue. It’s just Bobby, Mom, and I. She’s got someone with her. A burly guy about her height with a dark beard dressed in faded jeans and a worn out plaid shirt. Maybe another hunter she made friends with and brought in to help.  I give her a tight smile, not entirely comfortable with the unfamiliar presence.

 

She looks better than she has in weeks. The circles under her eyes are a little lighter and better yet, there’s some spark in her. She gives me a grin and pulls me in for a hug. One of the first I’ve gotten from her in months. I hold her slim frame against me for a moment before releasing. I glance at the guy, waiting for an introduction.

 

“Sam...uh...this is Parker,” she says, giving me an odd look, nervous. “He offered to help find Dean because he’s been kidnapped.” She places emphasis on that last word.

 

So not a hunter then. I give him another once over. His face is kinda worn, much like Dean and I’s. The kind of worn you get from having seen too much and not done quite enough. His hands are meaty, scarred, but his handshake is firm. He doesn’t smile though. His eyes scan me with the same suspicion that’s probably in mine. He draws his hand back and shoves them in his pockets, leaning against the wall.

 

“Alright, we’ll go in,” I say, glancing behind me at Mom and Bobby. “We’ll be out soon. Just wait here and we’ll touch base with what we find.”

 

She gives me a jerk of her chin. I turn around and head into the morgue, Mom and Bobby trailing behind me. As I walk, my mind keeps revisiting that guy. I want to know who he is and what he’s doing with her. I know she can take care of herself now, but after what happened when we were looking for Donna’s niece, I won’t take any chances. That, and if something happened to her because of him, Dean would kill me. Hell, he might just kill me for not shooing the guy off upon meeting him. 

 

“Do you know who that was?” Mom asks from beside me.

 

I shake my head.

 

“You don’t think that, well, they’re...together?” she says, hedging at the subject.

 

I stop dead. No. My jaw clenches inadvertently. Elvira wouldn’t do something like that. Not with Dean god knows where under Michael’s thumb. Not with what she said right before Michael disappeared wearing him like a suit. She loves Dean. Anyone could see that, what with how erratic and miserable she’s been since he’s been gone. I glance at Mom. 

 

She’s worrying her bottom lip, her eyes filled with concern. I reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. Mom leans into my touch a little. I know she’s worried about Dean, about anything that could hurt him when we get him back, but Elvira isn’t going to. 

 

“No, I don’t,” I say firmly. “Elvira loves Dean. She’s spent all this time waiting for him and looking for him, miserable. Why throw it all away?” Mom seems unconvinced, so I continue, “Elvira isn’t like that. She may have been a stripper, but she’s very selective as to who she’s actually...with.”

 

She searches my face before nodding slowly, accepting my answer. We make our way into the morgue. The process is very quick. Definitely angel, definitely not any standard one either. The mortician is very helpful and even gives us a lead on some woman who came to see the bodies. After we’re through, we head back outside where Elvira and Parker are waiting. 

 

“Look, I just think it’s best if you go on with your journey,” she’s saying as we approach.

 

Parker gives her a grin and rumbles, “What? And miss all the fun?”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me. It’s not going to as much fun as you think. And there are things that you can’t know.” 

 

“Can’t know? Or you don’t want me to know?” he challenges, fire blooming in his eyes.

 

“Both,” she grinds out, crossing her arms over her chest. 

 

I clear my throat, grabbing both of their attention. Elvira gives me a thin smile and Parker doesn’t smile at all. I smile at both of them, hoping to diffuse the situation a little.    
  
“Is there a problem?” 

 

She shrugs. “Only if you consider half-wit decisions a problem.”

 

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “As far as I know, you’re not in charge of my decision making. I’m coming with you. Even if I have to tailgate you the whole way there to do it.”

 

Everyone knows you don’t tailgate on a bike. Even me. It’s incredibly dangerous. Elvira looks up at me, the silver in her eyes flashing in the afternoon light. I can tell she wants me to tell him off, give him some spiel from the “FBI” about how he’s a civilian and all that. I just happen to think he’ll see right through me. He’s not blindly trusting like most people are. I know from his stance that he’s not gonna let this go. He won’t just take “because I said so” for an answer. 

 

“Elvira, how about we go talk for a second,” I say as placatingly at possible, trying to avoid her biting my head off. 

 

She gives me a glare, but lets me place a hand on her back and steer her away. Hopefully, she’ll wait until we’re more than a foot away to lose it. I’m more than aware of Parker watching us like a hawk as we walk. When we’re just out of earshot, I stop and turn to face her. 

 

“Okay, spill,” I say sternly. “Who the hell is this guy?”

 

“Okay so remember when my dad pulled me out of here and I disappeared for that month or whatever? Well, he’s the guy whose bike I kinda stole slash got gifted. We ran into each other at a gas station,” she bursts out all in one breath. “He insisted on coming with me. And I didn’t want him to get hurt following me or some shit. So I let him. He’s not a demon or anything, I’d sense that. And, well, now I just can’t seem to get rid of him.”

 

I glance over at him, observing his tense stance as he watches us. “He’s worried about you.”

 

“I know...” she replies, punctuating it with a sigh. “He’s not gonna let this go, Sam.”

 

I nod. “I can tell.”

 

“What should I do?”

 

I shrug. “Give him the talk. Let him come.”

 

Her eyes widen in surprise, but I really don’t see any other way about this. Yeah, she could tell him no and we could leave, but he would follow us just to make sure she was okay. Maybe we could tie him up, but I’ve seen one too many determined escapes to believe that that would work. She looks over at him and he gives her a single wave.

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she says, turning to face me again.

 

“I don’t see what other choice you have, Elvira,” I reply, resisting the urge to add,  _ you brought him into this mess. _

 

She runs a hand through her hair. “Yeah, you’re right. I just—I don’t know, I feel like I’m going to be ruining his life.”

 

“Hey,” I murmur gently, placing my hand on her shoulder, “just because he’ll know about all the things we hunt doesn’t mean he’s gotta do it too.”

 

She nods. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll tell him.” 

 

After a moment of silence she asks about what went down in the morgue. I give her a brief rundown on what we saw. The mutilated bodies that could only be an angel’s handiwork. She grimaces in disgust at that. I don’t know if it’s over the actual visual or over the fact that Michael’s doing it wearing Dean. Now that I’ve gotten her up to date on our info, we come up with a basic plan of attack. It mostly involves getting hotel rooms and research to figure out who our mystery morgue visitor is.

 

We walk back to the group where Bobby and Mom are holding a quiet conversation with Parker. I place my hands in my pockets as we approach, and give him a few feet of space. Elvira gives the guy a smile.

 

“Alright,” she says, “you’re in. Same rules apply. We’re gonna get some hotel rooms and I’ll fill you in there on everything. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

He grins at her. “Consider me warned.”

 

She shrugs. In about five minutes, we’re going through town to the cheapest motel we can find. It’s small, the green paint faded and peeling away. The sign at the road is missing letters so it reads DUUT NN instead of DULUTH INN. I park the Impala in one of the far corners so that there are spaces next to it for the bikes. A second later, Elvira pulls in beside me, and Parker beside her.

 

The door creaks as I open it and step out. “I’ll go get us the rooms. You wanna start bringing stuff we might need in?” I glance at Parker behind her and mind my words so as not to let anything slip before she has the chance to give him the talk. “Blades could use a sharpening. You’re probably rusty on your...foreign languages too.” 

 

She chuckles a bit at my awkwardness. “Yeah, I’ll start bringing crap in.”

 

I nod and leave her too it. Bobby and Mom follow me into the motel. The guy behind the counter has a beer belly bigger than a boulder and his piggish eyes train in on my mom, completely grazing over Bobby and I. If that’s not enough to make me uncomfortable, he gives her what I think is supposed to be a flirty smile. Mom, to her credit, looks away, anywhere but at him, and pretends she never saw it.

 

“We’ll take three rooms,” I say coldly.

 

He grunts and says in a high voice, “that’ll be six hundred total.”

 

I reach into my pocket and dig out my wallet. Sliding one of our many credit cards across the countertop, I watch as he sniffs almost delicately, and holds the card up squinting at the name. I reign in my impatient sigh as he runs the card. When it clears, he pulls out six room keys from a drawer. I hand Bobby and Mom two for room 105.

 

Just as I’m about to pocket the other four to distribute later, Parker opens the door and both him and Elvira walk inside. She has one of our duffel bags slung across her back as well as one in each hand. She gives me a dry smile, and approaches us.

 

“Hey,” I say, “I got us rooms. Mom and Bobby will share one. You and I can share. Parker can have his own.” I pause and look around at our group. “That okay with everyone?”

 

After a round of assent, we go to find our rooms. Parker’s is right beside mine and Elvira’s, while Mom and Bobby are directly across the hall. I key open our door and hold it, allowing Elvira to shuffle past. Parker lingers by the door, his eyes fixed on her. I gesture for him to come inside. After he enters, I shut the door behind us. Elvira tosses our duffels onto the bed beside the window, which I guess will be mine. Turning around, she flashes a tight awkward smile.

 

“So...” she says, clearly uncomfortable.

 

“So,” Parker repeats, then after a heartbeat’s pause he continues. “You gonna explain why you’ve got a trunk full of weapons in that very nice car?”

 

I hold back a snort. 

 

“Yeah,” she breathes, “you might wanna take a seat.”

 

He smiles and sits down at the edge of the empty bed. Elvira takes a few steps to stand across from him. I lean up against the wall, happy to let her do the explaining, but prepared to jump in if need be. She wrings her hands together. I almost reach across the space between us, just to put a hand on her arm. I admit, giving the talk is nerve wracking. You never know how people will react. I’ve had some people believe me without question as a result of the shit that they’ve seen with their own two eyes. I’ve had others attack me. Most simply call me insane until they’re forced to believe. Until they don’t have another choice. I smile slightly at the memory of Elvira doing exactly that when she first stumbled into our lives.

 

“Okay.” she says, taking a deep breath, but her eyes flash to me for silent support. I smile encouragingly.

 

“I kinda feel like you guys are about to explain how babies are made,” Parker jokes, his mouth twitching upward in nervous amusement.

 

“Well, when a Mommy and Daddy love each other very much—” Elvira starts in a high pitched coo.

 

I roll my eyes as I interrupt. “Wrong talk, El.”

 

She shrugs innocently. “Alright, I’m just gonna come out and say it. Monsters are real.”

 

Parker doesn’t say anything. The only reaction he has is a slight raising of his eyebrows.

 

“Ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves,” Elvira continues, growing more confident with every word, “all very real. Currently, Dean is being possessed by an angel, an evil angel.”

 

Parker glances at me before cracking a smirk. “Isn’t that kind of an oxymoron?”

 

She smiles. “You’re telling me.” After a pause she continues, “Sam and Dean are brothers. They’ve been hunting these things since they could conceivably hold a gun. And, well, I’ve been helping them for a little over a year. So that’s where we are.”

 

“Now remind me again,” Parker says slowly, “which one of us is insane, honey.”

 

I don’t like the little nickname he uses for her, but I don’t comment on it. Elvira just rolls her eyes. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re all mad here,” she says smiling a little. “Only I’m serious and this is real. Michael killed eight people—well, monsters—here alone. That’s why we were at the morgue.”

 

“Right,” Parker says, scratching at his beard. “Well, I guess seeing is believing, so I’ll just suspend my belief until I get a visual.”

 

“You’re not leaving?” Elvira asks, her brows scrunched together. “Like running for the hills because ‘oh, no they’re nuts’?”

 

“I wouldn’t wanna take off without checking you into a mental hospital,” he retorts, smirking again.

 

Elvira rolls her eyes, but says firmly, “Alright then. Let’s get to work.”

 

And so the research begins.


	6. Kissing With an Audience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears, I hope you'll enjoy what's in store with this one. A big thanks goes out to my lovely beta, playmysirensong. And to all the people who are still following this story. Sending love.
> 
> Your Friendly Neighborhood Ghost

**Chapter 6: Kissing With an Audience**

 

(Elvira)

 

Turns out our lead is a vampire. So there’s that. She’s holed up in a hostel for the homeless—a pretty gross run down place that even the Winchesters wouldn’t stay. When we find her, it takes her about a half second flat to realize that we are not in fact FBI, but hunters.

 

Apparently, she’s a vegan vamp, sucking down animal blood instead of human. She’s got dark hair, big innocent eyes, and a full mouth. Her eyes dart nervously between us all, waiting for one of us to swing. We keep our blades at the ready despite her self proclaimed ‘veganism’. We keep Parker to the back, making sure he gets a good view but not in harm’s way. Occasionally I’ll look back at him, check on him, making sure he’s still with us.

 

Sam took the duties of arming him and giving him a briefing on the “what’s what” of the supernatural. He listened with watchful eyes, asking questions every so often. Mostly though, he was quiet. And when Sam tracked the car that our mystery chick took, Parker followed our lead without hesitation. 

 

Now, standing behind us, his gaze flicks between us and the vampire—Lydia, I think her name is—looking like he might leap between us at any time. I jerk my chin at her, reaching for my power. My skin glows slightly. Her eyes widen and she stumbles back a step, watching me like a hawk. I spare a glance at Parker. His gaze is now entirely fixed at me. 

 

“Teeth,” I order, transferring my attention to the vampire in front of us. “Show ‘em.”

 

She glances between me and Sam, the two foremost threats to her. Then she lifts her lip with her fingers, baring her hidden set of very sharp blood-sucking teeth. I take a side step allowing Parker a good look. His face goes pale and he stares for a good long moment before I close the gap again.

 

“So you’re vegan,” I state.

 

She nods eagerly, desperate to convince us she’s no threat. “We—we lived quiet lives. Until  _ he _ came.”

 

“He? He who?” Sam demands.

 

“I don’t know his name, but he was strong,” she says, her voice shaking. “He—tied all of us up and —” her voice breaks and her eyes find the ground. “One by one, he’d take blood from us. I couldn’t see what he was doing exactly, but there would be this explosion and my friends would be dead.” She takes a slight shaky breath, “and when he was coming for me, a couple of the others tried to...tried to attack him. I was able to get away, but they didn’t make it.” By the end of her story, tears are streaming down her cheeks.

 

“Why was he killing you?” I demand, “did he say?”

 

“I—I don’t think he meant to,” she says, staring at me, “It’s just that things seemed to go…wrong. He wasn’t killing. It was like he was…experimenting.”

 

“Experimenting?” Bobby lets out, surprised, “what for?”

 

She licks her lips, dancing nervously from foot to foot as her eyes slide around the room looking for escape. “That’s—that’s all I know.”

 

“Okay,” Bobby says, raising his machete and taking a few steps forward, “nice chattin’ with you.”

 

She stumbles backwards, holding up her hands like they’re some sort of barrier between death and herself, as she begins crying out, “Wait—wait! I—I don’t know what he wanted. I—I don’t know who he was. But I —I do know where he is. If…if you let me go.” 

 

Sam and I exchange glances. We can do that. If she ends up sucking humans, I’ll find her and send her head rolling my damn self. I jerk my chin her way. She takes the hint.

 

“There’s an old church. In the warehouse district,” she says, taking a unsteady breath. “I—I think it’s called St. Anne’s. That’s where he was keeping us.”

 

I don’t need to hear any more. I turn and leave the room, Parker trailing a few feet behind me. I take the stairs down two, three, at a time. Nothing else matters right now. We’re so close to finding him. My heart threatens to burst out of my chest. This all feels so surreal, like a dream. A pretty fucked dream, but still a dream.

 

Dean. 

 

I can almost taste him.

 

“Elvira,” Parker’s voice pulls me to a halt. “That was a vampire.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re not crazy,” he says and when I look back at him he’s sporting a grin.

 

“I don’t know,” I shoot back, “anyone that hunts monsters for a living is pretty certifiably insane.”

 

He shrugs, grin still wide. “Yeah, but...it could be worse.”

 

I nod. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

Street signs fly by. I keep close enough behind the Impala so as not to let anyone between us, but far enough for it to be safe. Parker stays almost beside me. What should have been ten minutes ends up taking thirty in as we hit evening rush hour. As we hit the warehouse district, the traffic starts to thin out. Five more minutes and we’re pulling into the sandy lot of an abandoned looking church. The barely legible sign at the street reads St. Anne’s in gothic lettering.

 

As soon as I’m safely parked, I hit the ground running, not even bothering to pull off my helmet. Sam, Bobby, and Mary beat Parker and I inside. They got here first and it took them less time to park. I stop short, almost running straight into Mary. Her flashlight is trained on the floor, inspecting a large patch of dried blood.

 

“She wasn’t lying about the slaughter,” Mary comments, “whole lot of dried blood on the floor.”

 

“Why was he killing them?” Sam ponders. “And what did she mean by ‘experimenting’?”

 

Bobby drops one of our bags on the floor, the clatter echoing in the empty space. “Don’t look like he’s here, now.”

 

The sound of shattering glass has us all reaching for weapons. Mary, Sam, Bobby, and Parker all draw their blades while I reach for the vastness of power that churns inside of me. Somebody cries out ‘werewolves’ but there’s too much chaos for me to tell who. I send out a tendril of power at the nearest creature just as Sam empties a clip into its chest. Bullet after bullet after bullet. The thing barely flinches.

 

“Bullets aren’t working,” Sam growls in frustration.    
  


I wrap a tether around one of the werewolves, reaching for its spark of life. When I find it, I cradle it with my power and then squeeze. The wolf collapses to its knees screaming in agony. A smile works its way onto my face. Good, they’re suffering. Like Dean has probably suffered. Just like that, my human emotions switch off and all I want is to end them. And it’s not even really them. Wrong place, wrong time. These poor unfortunate souls had the displeasure of being here when Dean wasn’t. I don’t care that it’s dying. I don’t care that I killed it. I care that Dean isn’t here and I am and they tried to hurt my family.

 

The werewolf’s body slumps to the floor, motionless.

 

“Well, that works,” I hear Bobby say wryly somewhere off to my right.

 

I smirk. “Did you expect anything less?”

 

Then a thunk echoes from behind me. My head snaps to face Sam, his machete in hand dripping blood as a werewolf head rolls at his feet. We exchange nods before leaping back into the fray. I take out another werewolf, relishing its screams as Mary handles one of her own and then proceeds to toss the axe she seems to have pulled out of her ass into the back of the one on top of Bobby. Parker seems to have caught on that this isn’t a standard hunt. He’s taken Sam’s cue and pulled out his machete, fighting alongside the others. I whirl around, coming nose to nose with another one of the bastards. Before it can even open its mouth to snarl, I have it on its knees, howling.

 

Something inside me snaps.

 

I don’t press on with my power, taking it out of its misery. Instead I hold it there, like twisting a hot knife. It screams, it’s entire body shaking with it. It collapses to the floor, its head colliding with concrete. The resounding crack would have made me shudder at one point. I nudge my power just the slightest, earning a satisfying screech of pain. Short broken sobs and gasps for air hiss from between its teeth.

 

“You should never have come here,” I growl, my voice colder than the arctic.

 

That’s when I notice how silent it is. I don’t need to look around to know everyone is watching me. Parker in particular stares at me a conflicting mixture of awe and fear on his face. It makes me sick to my stomach. I send one last surge of power that ends the life below me. For a moment, I stand there surveying the carnage and avoiding everyone’s eyes.

 

“Everyone alright?” Sam calls, a quiet chorus of ‘yeah’s follows.“Anyone get bit?” he continues.

 

There’s a pause then Mary replies slowly. “No.”

 

We all congregate in the middle of the room. I don’t miss the glances in my direction. They’re probably full of fear, worry, and maybe even pity. I don’t look, though. I just can’t bring myself to care. 

 

“What the hell kinds of werewolves were those?” Bobby asks, not really expecting any of us to have answer.

 

“Silver didn’t touch ‘em,” Mary adds. We’re all silent for a moment as we think. 

 

The creak of the door at the end of the room grabs our attention as it slams open. 

 

There he is, bathed in red light, dressed like he’s some wealthy wall street guy way back in the forties. 

 

I can’t move. I’m frozen. The earth is spinning around me and every beat of my heart that thuds in my ears echos his name. Dean. Dean. Dean. He takes a step into the room, his hand outstretched. And for a moment fear roils in my gut that he’s still Michael, that even though we’ve come all this way I still won’t be able to bring him back home. Then he leans against a wooden pole in the room. His hands—those hands that are gentle but firm—slide the newsboy cap off his head. 

 

“Sammy,” he murmurs, his breathing heavy, “It’s me.”

 

Sam helps Dean sit, crouching beside him. There’s torment on Dean’s face, torture. Like he’s just come back from a hell of another kind. I know I should go to him, be there with Sam next to him, but I can’t move. I can’t even take my helmet off.

 

“I—Is it really you, Dean?” Sam asks, breathless with the fight and overcome with emotion.

 

“Yeah...it’s really me.”

 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks, searching his brother for any sign of hurt.

 

“No, I’m not okay,” Dean snaps.

 

“You got Michael to leave,” Sam says gently.

 

“No—-no, I don’t—I didn’t.”

 

“What?” Bobby demands, voicing everyone’s incredulity.

 

“He just...he just left.” His voice is ragged. My chest just about crumples in on itself then. 

 

“Why?” Sam asks the golden question.

 

“I don’t know,” Dean answers quietly, then looking around at everyone, he repeats it with more fear in his tone than I’ve ever heard from him before.

 

Sam and Dean stay like that for a few minutes, letting that statement wash over everyone. They all seem to exchange glances, probably wondering what the hell this means for us. However, my gaze is fixed on the one thing that has mattered during all of this. My heart hammers in my ears and my legs feel like jelly. Sam stands back up, giving Dean a hand. The brothers embrace. Once they let go of each other, Dean surveys the room. His breathing is more even.

 

His eyes slide around and I can see the moment they land on my boots. Sam seems to see it too because he steps out of the way. I yank my helmet off my head, letting my hair tumble out around my face. Suddenly, I feel so dirty, worn out, and thin. His green eyes meet mine though and he doesn’t smile, but there’s a spark in his eye of something that wasn’t there even before he got taken by Michael. The helmet falls from my hands and clatters to the floor. No one says anything. No one moves. I take a half step forward, but falter. 

 

His eyes are locked on me, taking in everything about me, before landing on my own. His full perfect lips tug upward in one of those classic Dean Winchester smiles. Tears start to blur my vision. The entire world fades away as he utters the three most beautiful words I’ve ever heard.

 

“Miss me, Princess?” 

 

That’s all it takes. I surge forward, nearly bowling him over as I fling my arms around him. His arms automatically wind around me, his hands twisting into my hair. I’m fully aware that I’m sobbing at this point, the sharp guttural sounds bouncing around the room. I don’t care and neither does he. My whole body is shaking and Dean is the only thing holding me steady. I tilt my head back so I can look into his face. 

 

His eyes scan me. His hair is a little longer and parted into a neat side comb instead of the messy crew cut he normally keeps it in. My hands are touching his face of their own accord, tracing the hard lines, and feeling the layer of stubble. His skin is warm under my touch. He leans down and half pulls me up to meet him as he melds his mouth to mine. His mouth moves slowly, but deliberately, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me. There’s no urgency, but so much passion.  It takes everything in me not crumble for the sheer joy of this. His thumb grazes against my cheekbone as a small whimper slips from my mouth into his. When he pulls back, my breathing is as ragged as his was just minutes ago.

 

“Don’t cry, Princess,” he murmurs, taking his fingers and sliding them under my lash lines, wiping away the tears suspended there. “It’s alright. Hush. I’m right here.”

 

“If you ever, I mean  _ ever _ , do something so rash, so stupid again,” I start in, my voice rising with every word, “I swear to whichever god is fucking listening—”

 

He cuts me off with another kiss. I let him. I’d let him kiss me until the sun turns blue. Hell, I’d let him do anything right now as long as he doesn’t disappear again. 

 

“Let’s go home,” he says softly.

 

I put everything on the back burner for right now. Ellatris and the multiverse can wait a goddamn day. I’m tired. So when Dean wraps his arm around my shoulder and begins to steer me towards the exit, I don’t say anything. I let myself relax into him, even just for a moment.


	7. The Award Goes to Jealousy, For World’s Most Overrated Emotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo, I know, I know, I know... it's been a couple weeks. I got a new job and they've been working my ass off. Thee few days I don't have off, I sleep. And clean. And work of my writing. So don't worry, I'm still trucking along. On another note, I went to a concert! I saw The 1975!!! My favorite band!!!!! It was SO MUCH FUN, thanks for asking. Special thanks goes out to my lovely wonderful beta, playmysirensong. I love you!
> 
> Anyways, comment, kudos, etc. 
> 
> Love from your friendly neighborhood Ghost

**Chapter 7: The Award Goes to Jealousy, For World’s Most Overrated Emotion**

 

(Elvira)

 

“Are you hungry?” Mary fusses around Dean. “I can go pick something up or if you want something homemade...”

 

She glances between the two of us, Dean sitting on the edge of the motel bed, me standing beside him. Dean and I exchange looks and one of his eyebrows goes up in silent question. I give a tiny bob of my shoulders. I reach over and rest my hand on his shoulder and watch as the haunted look in his eye abates a little. 

 

“I could kill for a pizza,” Dean says. “Extra greasy.”

 

Mary smiles gently. “I’ll go order one. Bobby and I can pick it up when it’s ready.”

 

She leaves the room, shutting the door softly with a click. I sit beside Dean and he leans against me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His breath warms the space there. We sit in silence, not needing words to express the hurricane of emotions torrenting through us. His hand comes to rest on my knee, only to slide up my thigh, the side of my torso.

 

“Elvira,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “you have no idea...you were...thinking about you kept Michael at bay. He’s scared shitless of you. So I’d go through days, weeks, where all I would think about was you.”

 

I heave a breath, my chest cracking open with emotion as I do. He maneuvers to face me. His fingertips trace the contours of my face until they come to rest on my lips. His eyes seem to swallow every little detail, flickering from the hollow in the column of my throat, up to the point of my chin, to the bump in the middle of my nose. My tongue darts out to wet my lips. He mirrors my action, probably not even consciously.

 

“He would falter when I thought about you and sometimes I’d get to take a breath in my own body,” his voice is choked and I reach out and clutch his finely pressed shirt. “Once I even got to to take a couple steps. I just...I thought you should know.”

 

I move compliantly as he pulls me into him, caressing his lips against my own. He pushes me flat on the bed, his body covering mine completely. I spread my legs, allowing him to nestle between my thighs. He groans, pressing his face into my shoulder, as I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands wrap around my wrists, sliding them above my head, and pinning them there gently.

 

He presses small kisses along my neck, nibbling, and sucking. I let out a small whine as he nips at a sensitive spot, but it quickly turns into a gasp as he soothes it with his tongue. He hums against my ear sending shivers down my spine. Oh god, this. I missed this. 

 

A knock on the door interrupts us. Dean’s hands loosen at my wrists, but he doesn’t let go immediately. His eyes flicker between the door and me, like he’s trying to decide if it’s really worth it. Finally, he releases me and stands, sending a look full of lust and barely contained desire my way before storming over to the door and wrenching it open.

 

“Hey, is Elvira here?” I hear Parker ask from my spot on the bed.

 

“Yeah, she is.” Dean says in a near growl. The primal show of aggression sends a shiver through me.

 

“I want to talk to her.”

 

Oh. Oh no. I can sense this is about to go south very quickly. I push myself up, briskly straighten my clothes and run a hand through my hair. Standing completely, I go to the open door. Dean is taking up most of the space in the opening, probably a force of habit, but I can make out the man in front of him. Parker stands on the other side, mouth twisted into a shit-eating grin.

 

“I don’t know who you are, buddy, but we’re a little—” Dean starts, but I manage to cut him off before this turns into a full fledged dick measuring contest.

 

“Dean,” I murmur, resting my hand on his arm.

 

“Hey, honey, how’s it going?” Parker says with a smirk.

 

Dean goes rigid, his eyebrows furrowing into a glare. I tighten my grip on his arm, just a little bit. He glances at me, but his attention is all consumed with the other man across the threshold. Great, two alpha males in an enclosed space. What could possibly go wrong?

 

“Dandy,” I reply flatly, pushing the door open a bit more. “need something?”

 

“Just trying to figure out where you headed after...this?” he responds, pushing his hands into his pockets.

 

“Back home,” I supply.

 

Dean shifts next to me, his hand sliding down my back. Lower and lower until it rests on my asscheek. What a bastard. He grabs a handful and squeezes, running his thumb in slow possessive circles. I flash him a look and he just smirks back at me. Parker notices the exchange. I know Dean’s doing this just to mark his territory, so to speak. Not that he sees me as a possession, but that he has succumb as many a human do, to the green bug we all like to call jealousy. Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention back to Parker.

 

“Home is where exactly?” he asks, watching Dean like he’s a convict fresh out of prison. “I’d like to learn more about this hunting gig—and the best way to do that is with the veterans.”

 

“Sure, yeah,” I respond a bit dismissively, anything to get him to leave right now so I can talk to Dean about this. “Let me just run it by everyone. I just don’t want to rock the boat.”

 

He nods stiffly. “Come find me later when you talk to...everyone.” He says the last word with emphasis, his eyes locking on Dean. The latter gives him a shit-eating grin, mirroring the one Parker gave earlier. It takes everything in me not to knock their heads together. Idiots, the both of them.

 

“We’ll call you,” Dean says in a tone that says the opposite as he slams the door.

 

As soon as it is safely shut, I lean against it, crossing my arms over my chest. “What was that?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing. Who is that guy?”

 

“I got my bike from him, Dean. We ran into each other in Nebraska.” I explain.

 

He raises his eyebrows. “And you didn’t think that was a little weird, Princess?”

 

“Give me some credit, Pretty Boy,” I scoff. “He’s no demon or angel or any other kinda nasty thing. He’s just a dude. He would’ve followed me and I didn’t want him stumbling into something he couldn’t handle.”

 

“Think he can’t handle himself?” Dean murmurs, wrapping his arms around me and yanking me into him. “You like someone that knows their way around, huh. Not some douchenozzle—-”

 

“You’re jealous.”

 

He sputters for a second before coming up with the genius deflection: “I am not. I don’t  _ do _ jealous, cupcake.”

 

I look at him from beneath my eyelashes. “Oh yeah. The great Dean Winchester never gets jealous, does he?” I take my finger and run it from his jawline, down his neck, to hook it in the collar of his shirt. I watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. If he thinks he can win at a game of seduction, he’s dead wrong. Standing on my tiptoes, I pull him even closer and whisper in his ear, “Too bad.”

 

“T—too bad?”

 

“Yeah,” I say breezily, stepping back. “Woulda been kinda hot.”

 

I watch as he struggles to form words. His tongue darts out to lick his full lips. I give him a pretty little smile before turning around. Just as I’m about to take a step away, his hand snatches my wrist and drags me back against him. My back slams into his hard muscled chest. His mouth attaches itself to my neck, doing exactly what it was before we got so rudely interrupted. Groping across my body, his hands are like fire. One massages my breast, the other slides along the waistband of my pants. Deftly, his hand flips open the button of my jeans and unzips the zipper before sliding inside to cup my sex. He groans against my ear and it leaves me a little breathless. I can feel his hardness, pressing into my backside, trapped in his jeans. 

 

“Princess,” he groans gutterally, “Bed. Now.”

 

“Bossy are we?” I tease, my voice hitching.

 

I grind against his length, eliciting a sharp hiss from between his teeth. One of his digits, slides along my folds, feeling the wetness there, then climbs to that bundle of nerves, flicking and circling it. A moan escapes my lips. 

 

We maneuver ourselves to the bed, losing clothing as we go. Dean’s hands slide along my bare body. I’m acutely aware right now of how much weight I’ve lost. Enough to be noticeable, but not enough that I look sick. If he notices though, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he worships my body the way he always has. 

 

Laying me down on the edge of the bed, he gets on his knees like a sinner in church. First with his mouth. Kissing from my neck, down to my dripping core. His tongue—which he has always been so talented with—has me gasping and twisting the sheets in my hands. He sucks that little bundle of nerves as his tongue massages it, flicking and teasing. Every so often he’ll groan, sending delicious vibrations that reverberate along my nerves. My thighs shake and I’m panting and probably begging. When he meets my eyes, his lower face coated in my wetness, he gives me a half smirk that somehow turns me on more than anything else he’s done today. God I’ve missed him.

 

I push myself up and reach over, grabbing for his length, but he bats my hand away. “No, just let me enjoy this, Princess.”

 

I raise my eyebrows at him, but at that moment I relinquish control. We haven’t talked about his time with Michael much, only how I had a part in helping him remain at least a little sane. I have a feeling this is more for his benefit than mine. Somehow in these past months, I was the line between Michael and him.

 

And right now, I’m certainly not going to be the one to complain about that.

 

He brings me right to the brink with his mouth and fingers. I try to be quiet, knowing we have neighbors, but holy bleeding hell, what he does to me is...unbelievable. Every noise that manages to slip from my mouth only seems to spur him on.

 

When he finally slides inside me with a guttural groan, my eyes roll back and I clutch at him, trying to steady myself in the wash of pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so good. I’ve had sex before, but this...this with Dean is pure rapture. He stills once he’s fully sheathed in me, letting me adjust. 

 

“Dean,” I let out, my voice completely wracked with pleasure.

 

He rolls his hips once experimentally, making me cry out. With the angle—him standing up, me nearly hanging off the bed—he’s hitting that sweet spot inside me. His hands wrap around my thighs as he thrusts again. And again. It doesn’t take him long to find a good rhythm. One that has me moaning and him barking curses under his breath.

 

“Princess, you feel...” the sentence gets lost in a groan as he bottoms out again. 

 

His hands slide into the space where our bodies meet and he starts working his magic again. I feel it building in my stomach, before it starts to roll down the rest of my body. His pace becomes frantic as he feels my body tensing.

 

“Dean,” I moan, “I’m gonna…”

 

“That’s it, Princess,” he murmurs, bucking his hips deeply into me, hitting that damn spot over and over. His finger work faster, circling and flicking. “You can do it. Cum for me.”

 

I shatter, spiralling free of time and space and worry. The only things real to me are the feeling of him and the tingling warmth spreading through my body. The contractions bring on his own orgasm. He pulls out and spills himself across my stomach. He stands there for a moment, hands still tightly wrapped around my thighs, his features relaxed in exquisite ecstasy.

 

When he gently releases my legs, he lets out one word, “Wow.” His eyes are full of awe, tracing my body sprawled out before him. When I look down at myself, my skin is glowing like soft starlight. Well, that’s new. I chuckle in slight disbelief. As if I couldn’t get any weirder. I shake my head and close my eyes.

 

I listen as Dean disappears into the bathroom for a moment, presumably getting some tissues to clean me up. Once that’s all taken care of, he sits beside me, his eyes never straying far from me.

 

“What?” I ask eventually, cracking open my eyes.

 

He smirks. “I just…you’re glowing.” The smirk turns into a smug grin. “I fucked you so good you’re glowing.” His hand moves to ghost my skin almost reverently.

 

“Let’s not get too big for our britches here, Pretty Boy.”

 

He shrugs, grin still wide. “I’m literally having sex with a goddess. As far as I’m concerned, I’m winning at life right now.”

 

I roll my eyes. God, as if his ego needed a boost. I stand on weak legs and stretch before throwing my clothes back on. I toss Dean’s at him playfully and watch as he gets dressed. God, that ass. You could graph that curve.

 

Hopefully, his mom will have the pizza soon because I’m starved. We need to regroup too. On top of that, I have to figure out what to do about the Parker situation. Now is a good a time as any, while he’s still got that post-sex serotonin and oxytocin coursing through him. Hooray for sex-induced feel-good hormones!

 

“So…” I start, knowing this is probably gonna go about as well as train wreck, “I think Parker should come to the bunker.”

 

His mouth twists with distaste. “Why?”

 

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Because I brought him into this. Not intentionally maybe, but he’s still my responsibility. I can’t be like: ‘Oh yeah, monsters are real. Also, peace out’.”

 

“He’s a grown man. I think he can handle a hit-it-and-quit-it.”

 

“Dean!” I say sharply.

 

He chuckles. “What? I’m just saying everyone’s gotta deal with rejection, Princess.”

 

“First of all, you assclown, he’s not getting rejected because there’s nothing to reject. Second of all, if he died because he didn’t get the right training to be a hunter, that’s on me. I have...I have enough right now with—without having that on my hands.” I can’t help the slight break in my voice at that. My mind fills with images of disintegrating universes and people begging for mercy. At my hands. On my head. It’s all on me. 

 

“What’s wrong?” His voice is faraway.

 

_ “Please, stop this,” a woman begs. Her eyes are terrified, but I’ve got no mercy. A wave of my power wipes her from my view. I don’t care. Hers is one in a chorus of voices begging me to stop, begging me to be human. But what even is human anymore? How did I get from there to here? Is there even a way back to what I was before? _

 

“Elvira?” Dean’s hand tightens on my arm to the point of being almost painful.

 

I hum in reply, still dazed by the memories of what I did, what I still have to do. I look at him to see his eyes wracked with concern. I force a smile. A lie. One I’ve become so accustomed to telling.  There’s no reason he should have to deal with all this on top of his own shit from Michael. If I was only human, I might cave and cry and tell him everything. I’m not though, I’m half a god and I can’t bring this down on anyone with a human heart. Never mind that he would probably hate me if he knew. I’m not avoiding  _ that _ at all.

 

“What’s wrong?” he repeats.

 

“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m just tired.”

 

Dean nods, though clearly unconvinced. “The biker dude can come I guess. I don’t want you feeling like his blood’s on your hands when he does something stupid.”

 

I nod. Dean opens his mouth to say something more when a soft knock interrupts us. Dean’s mouth twists impatiently. I almost get the feeling he wants us to be left alone. I stand and head over to the door, opening it. Mary stands on the other side, arms laden with three boxes of pizza from some local pizzeria. I feel Dean as he comes to stand beside me. When I glance up at him, he’s got a wide smile I know all too well, one that only comes out when there’s something tasty and completely unhealthy nearby. He rubs his hands together eagerly.

 

“Gimme the carbs,” he says happily, making grabby hands at the boxes.

 

Mary smiles at his antics. “I was thinking we could all eat in here...if you guys aren’t busy.”

 

Well, we were definitely busy about five minutes ago. And we’ll probably get busy again before the night’s over. Dean shoots me a smirk and some eyebrow wiggles that tells me his mind is obviously just as much in the gutter as mine. I elbow him lightly in the side. Mary watches the exchange with flushed cheeks. That can’t be a fantastic feeling, knowing your son is having sex like thirty feet from you. I mean, he’s a grown ass man, but it’s still probably weird as all hell.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” I reply finally, giving her an apologetic smile.

 

Dean shrugs. “Don’t matter to me. As long as I get one of these babies to myself.” He nods at the boxes.

 

Mary chuckles and brushes past us into the room. She sets the boxes on the small dining table. The smell of pizza wafts past us making me twice as hungry and much less likely to want to share. I groan.

 

“I’m just gonna go get the others,” Mary says lightly. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

 

A few minutes later she returns with Sam, Bobby, and Parker in tow. The latter of whom gives me a lopsided grin. God, I know deep in my bones the same way I know the sky is blue and grass is green that he heard us going at it. There’s no way he didn’t. Oh yikes. You know? Probably everyone did, based on the very sly glances we get every so often. Well, that’s just  _ lovely _ . Everyone got to hear my sex vocals. Cool, cool, cool. Alright, alright. No big deal.

 

Mary throws open the lids to the pizza boxes. Bobby produces a stack of paper plates that he passes around. When he gets to me, he looks me in the eyes for a second before glancing away, closest thing to embarrassment I’ve ever seen from the gruff man apparent in his features.

 

Oh, they definitely heard us. Oh god. Oh no. I do my best to ignore the looks and just grab a couple slices of supreme. While I’m transferring the food, Sam sidles up next to me.

 

“So I’m gonna bunk with Parker tonight,” he says. When I look up at him questioningly,  he continues, “I just figure you and Dean could use your...space.”

 

Dean appears out of fucking nowhere on the other side of Sam to comment. “So what you’re sayin’ Sammy is that you don’t wanna be in the same room while we bang like bunnies.”

 

“Oh my god…” I say slowly, “Dean, I could kill you right now.”

 

“You know, Princess?” He says, taking a bite out of pizza, chewing, and swallowing. “For a stripper you sure got delicate sensibilities.”

 

No, I just know there’s a time and place. It’s one thing when people pay to look at my body, but ain’t nobody paying to hear about my sex life. I know that saying that though, would only egg him on. Instead, I look him square in the eye and give a seductive little half smile, running the tip of my tongue along my two front teeth. 

 

“Dean, if you’re not careful I’m gonna show you all my  _ delicate _ sensibilities,” I say lowly.

 

That shuts him up. And my god, if Sam looked any more uncomfortable I’d assume he had a hemorrhoid. I walk past Dean, trailing my hand across his back as I do with just the tips of my fingers. I feel him stiffen under my touch—in a good way. He glances over his shoulder to look at me like I’m the biggest slice of pie he’s ever seen and he’s ready to dive in. I toss him a pretty smile and a wink before going to the opposite side of the room to find Parker.

 

He’s sitting on the edge of one of the beds, pizza folded between his fingers, and eating like he’ll never see food again. I’m kinda thinking that if he and Dean could put away their dicks for a solid five minutes they might actually get along. But nooooo. He gives me closed-mouth grin, cheeks bulging with food.

 

“You’re in,” I say. “Lebanon, Kansas. That’s where home is.” He swallows down the food, but before he can respond, I continue.”Let me just add though, you’ve seen what I can do. If you’re working for someone, if you do anything that puts my family in danger, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

 

“Sounds like a fair deal.”

 

“Good,” I reply lightly. “We leave as soon as it’s light out. It’ll take all day to get there.”

 

He waits a moment before hitting me with the big question. “You’re not exactly human are you?”

 

“No. No, I’m not.”

 

“And they’re…okay with that?” he asks, glancing around the room.

 

I shrug. “I’ve saved their asses more than a couple times. Not that they could do much about it either way.”

 

As I say that an arm slides around my shoulders. Goddammit Dean, I’m just having a plain old conversation right in view of everyone. He presses a sloppy kiss beside my ear and I just fucking know he left traces of pizza sauce. I wipe the front of my hand across the spot, hopefully getting rid of the sauce. I shoot him a glare.

 

“She ain’t lyin’,” Dean says, grinning, “She’s pulled our bacon out of the fire more than a few times. She’s a real gem this one.”

 

There’s an underlying meaning there that I don’t care to decipher. The Winchesters speak in omission or echoes. Some, hell even most, of the time a lot of what they say is left unsaid. It takes some translating, but eventually you can get down to what the two numbnuts really mean. It’s just a lot of effort to get down to the bones. And sometimes, they don’t always mean what you want them to.

 

“I’ve noticed,” Parker quips, giving him a sly smile. 

 

The grin drops off Dean’s face faster than greased lightning. I hold back laugh. The both of them are children, doing whatever they can to piss the other off. It’s not a big enough deal right now, just jabs and unhidden distaste for each other, but the second they can’t function because of their pettiness then I’ll rip ‘em a new one.

 

“Just follow me on your bike,” I say, “We’ll drive behind Baby for most of the trip ‘cause Dean drives like he’s in a constant state of medical emergency.”

 

“Baby?”

 

Right. Family nicknames. “The Impala,” I clarify.

 

He looks up at Dean, running his fingers through his beard. “That your beast?”

 

“That she is,” Dean replies smugly. “Been my baby since ‘01, was my daddy’s before me.”

 

Parker smiles wryly at Dean, before glancing at me. I don’t know what to make of that look and apparently neither does Dean, but he definitely didn’t like it. He doesn’t reply, but instead sort of nods at Parker, before steering me away. 

 

Once everyone’s full and headed back to their rooms, Dean and I take a shower together. Afterwards we head to bed, knowing we’ve got an early morning and a day of driving ahead. It feels so strange to sleep in the same bed again. Not in a bad way, just strange. I’m so used to the other side of the bed being cold and empty. 

 

Even though he’s here now, my sleep is still restless. I wake several times, sweat soaked and panting,  from the same nightmare of a pretty universe filled with good people burning at my hands. My eyes travel to Dean and his even peaceful breathing. If he were to find out what I’ve done, he wouldn’t look at me, so much as sleep in the same bed as I do. The thought keeps me awake until the sun begins to rise and orange light starts peering through the window.


End file.
